


Song for Summer

by syn0dic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adventures in Parenting, Canon Divergence, F/F, IT'S FINISHED, M/M, Post-Canon, This Was Supposed to Be One 3k Chapter and I Have No Self Control, also the canon divergence is...minimal and gay, claude and hilda are both bi and trans and best friends, fan kids, i think what we've really learned here is that i am soft and stupid, the amount of research i did to find out if it was realistic for there to be sunscreen....My Mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-23 08:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21317086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syn0dic/pseuds/syn0dic
Summary: Summer is a magical time. The sun shines a little brighter, the smiles are a little wider, and the laughs are a little louder. The Gloucester-von Riegan family and the Goneril-von Edmund family have decided to make the most of their time off in the Blue Sea Moon together, and a beach vacation in southern Goneril is in order.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan & Hilda Valentin Goneril, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester & Marianne von Edmund, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (strums guitar) i am so fucking sorry i acted like there wouldn't be more of this

“Come on, Baba!” The little girl bounded ahead of her father, the curly haired dignity melting away as she turned back to look at him, stumbling slightly over the grass. “We’re going to be late!” They had left the inn earlier that morning, and the walk to the beach, though wonderfully scenic, was still not short.

“Ismene, you’re going to fall if you keep running backwards,” her other father fussed, the wind stirring his violet hair, a feature they shared. “Come back, little one.”

“Or else I’ll have to chase you!” joked her other father with a laugh, running after her, but clearly keeping a pace slow enough to let her win. Lorenz smiled, shaking his head as his husband and daughter ran across the seagrass plains along the beach.

“Claude, don’t encourage her!” Lorenz called, but it was too late. He was already roaring like a monster, tumbling over the grass as he lifted Ismene above his head. The little girl broke into hysterics, squealing with laughter, and Lorenz couldn’t help the contagious grin on his face.

“Put me down, Baba!” she laughed, swatting at him as Claude set her back down on the grass.

“Are you getting too big for me to pick you up? Or do you just not want me to embarrass you in front of your aunties?” Lorenz helped the both of them up, and Claude ruffled Ismene’s hair affectionately.

“I won’t be embarrassed,” said Ismene, picky with her words. “I just haven’t seen Aunt Hilda and Aunt Mari in so long, and Aunt Hilda said I had to grow up big and strong like her.” Lorenz tried not to laugh. He’d forgotten Hilda had said that. “Daddy, what’s so funny?”

“Nothing at all, little one,” he said, giving Claude a knowing look, and Claude grinned in return.

“Are you excited to see your cousin? Play on the beach for hours? Bother your dads?” Claude hefted the beach tote slightly on his shoulder. Lorenz was a chronic overpacker, and lucky enough that his husband didn’t mind carrying the day trip’s things. 

“I’m excited to play on the beach!” Ismene clung to Lorenz’s side, and still gangly even now, he had to work not to trip over her. “Like last summer. Except this time, can I swim without the floaters. Right, Baba?” She gave Claude pleading eyes; Lorenz had a feeling she knew he would say no.

“I don’t know about that one, kiddo,” said Claude, raising an eyebrow. “The ocean’s pretty big. Maybe your daddy would feel better if you had your floats.”

“I hate the floats. You let me swim in the river last weekend without them!”

“Claude, you let her swim in the river?” Lorenz raised his eyebrows. “With no security measures?”

“I was right there the whole time, sweetheart,” said Claude. “Besides, Ismene is a mean doggie paddler, and we practiced treading water, too, right?” Ismene nodded vigorously.

“Maybe for a short while then,” said Lorenz hesitantly. “But you must stay where we can see you, and where you can touch the bottom. Understood?”

“Yeah,” she said, hands in the pockets of her dress. He hoped she hadn’t been stuffing bugs in her pockets again while he wasn’t paying attention. “How much further, Baba?”

“Not much. You see that hill?” He knelt down and pointed to the green rolling ridge, barely a quarter mile ahead. “The beach is just on the other side, you can hear the waves. And we might just beat your aunts.”

“Knowing Hilda, we certainly did,” said Lorenz, not without fondness. “Goodness, I bet that Hollis’s grown. The last time we saw him, he wasn’t even big enough for a pony.”

“But I’m big enough, right?” She looked up at Lorenz.

“Little one, I’ve been teaching you to ride for the last year,” he said, with a smile. “And regardless of what your Baba says, I know he’s been instructing you with the wyverns when he thinks I’m not paying attention.”

“Who, me?” Claude batted his eyelashes jokingly. Ismene got a tight, smug grin on her face-- she was inside on some joke in her mind. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Lorenz, putting an arm over his husband’s shoulder as Ismene meandered ahead on the trail. “Stay with us, Ismene!” he called behind her. The little girl was distracted by something, kneeling beside the roots of a tree to observe a bug, or perhaps something equally unpleasant in Lorenz’s mind.

“Leave it alone,” Claude told her nonchalantly. “Come on. It’s just a little ways more.”

“I’m tired of walking,” she groaned. “And why can’t I keep bugs. Daddy, piggyback?” She tugged at the hem of Lorenz’s sleeve, and he saw in those sharp green eyes of hers the same glow Claude had when he knew he’d won. He could never say no to her.

“Why me?” Lorenz asked, hoisting her up onto his shoulders with a slight oof. She was getting big. Not as heavy as his armor, certainly, but he remembered a time when he could pick her up with one arm. “I thought you wanted to demonstrate to your aunts how much you’d grown up.”

“That’s why you,” she said, beaming at Claude from on high. “You’re taller than Baba. They’ll think I grew even more.”

“That logic can’t be argued,” he said, as Ismene played with his hair from her perch on his shoulders. “Can you leave my hair alone, little one?”

“Why? Afraid it’ll get messed up?” Claude smiled. “I dunno, Ismene. Do you think your daddy could rock a nice braid?”

“You egg her on too much, darling,” said Lorenz as Ismene tried to pull her father’s long hair back without losing her balance. He stopped in his tracks and reached up. “I fear you might fall off, little one. Hold on a little tighter.” Ismene nodded and let go of his hair, and immediately he felt better balanced.

“Did you and Baba have any battles on this beach?” asked Ismene calmly. They had tried to be open with her about the war when they could; it was far enough behind them all for the memories to lose some of their sting, and to hide things from their daughter was in both of their minds, irresponsible.

“Nope,” Claude said. “But Hilda’s brother is in charge here, so we all visited this beach a few times long before you were even a wink in our eyes.”

“So we’re in Goneril,” said Ismene, mulling over the word. “When are we going to see Grandma and Grandpa again?” That was right-- the last time they’d passed through Goneril was on their family’s regular journey between Almyra and Gloucester-Riegan territory.

“We’re heading back in the winter,” said Claude.

“I have some duties to attend to here in Fodlan, and then your Baba has work to do in Almyra. We’ll almost certainly be back before the end of springtime.” It was hard raising a little girl with a foot in two continents, but they had managed; she was fluent in both languages, a natural extrovert, and though Lorenz still hadn’t grown on most of the other Almyran leaders in he and Claude’s decade of marriage, Ismene was a charmer, and the apple of her grandparents’ eyes. “It’s likely that we’ll pass your birthday in Almyra. Won’t that be thrilling?” Ismene nodded vigorously.

“Maybe we’ll get you on a wyvern for real, Ismene,” said Claude, a grin on his face. “Right?”

“Put a pin in that one,” said Lorenz, who still remembered the nail-biting experience of watching her nearly fall off of her horse the week before. “But your Nana will miss your birthday. She was very excited to read with you last year, wasn’t she?” Ismene was six; she had only begun reading storybooks and chapters instead of primers recently and Lorenz’s mother had been thrilled.

“That was fun,” agreed Ismene. “But I want to learn to ride! I like it outside, I like going fast. Are we taking the boat, or is Baba going to fly?”

“Good question,” said Lorenz, who had left travel arrangements to his husband. “Claude?”

“I’m thinking we’re going to take the boat,” said Claude. “It’s safer, is all. Can’t have you falling off, little lady.”

“Aw,” whined Ismene, and though Lorenz couldn’t see her, he could tell she was pouting as they rounded the edge of the hilltop. “There they are!” Ismene squealed, pointing to the little family that was only just setting up their umbrella. “Aunt Mari! Aunt Hilda!” she screamed, almost directly into her father’s ear.

Hilda waved, and Hollis ducked out from behind his mother. He took after Marianne, shy and quiet, more for books than for the active pursuits Ismene favored. His silver-lilac hair and gray eyes made him look even shyer. He was barely a year younger than Ismene, but by comparison seemed so reserved and small, that Claude could barely believe he was of any relation to Hilda Valentine Goneril-von Edmund.

Lorenz lowered his daughter from his shoulders, quite aware that if he didn’t set her down quickly, she would likely springboard off of him. The second Ismene’s feet hit the ground, she sprinted for Marianne and Hilda, and threw her arms around Marianne first, who was laying down a picnic blanket and caught entirely off guard.

“Ismene!” She smiled, her voice still quiet as she hugged the little girl. “You’ve gotten big, haven’t you?”

“Mhm, I’m almost as strong as Aunt Hilda now,” she said happily, and Marianne politely covered a laugh with her hand.

“I can tell. Hilda, dear, Ismene says she’s almost as strong as you.” Hilda was taking her dress off to reveal a swimsuit underneath, and stretched her shoulders in the sun.

“That so?” Hilda smiled. “Well, I have no choice but to believe you, Ismene. Because right now, I am on a break, and I am not going to compete with anyone. Mari, did you grab the sun cream for Hollis?”

“I may need to borrow some for myself and Ismene,” said Lorenz, walking up behind her with Claude by his side. “It’s wonderful to see you again, ladies.”

Hilda spent a hot minute looking at the both of them with a testy pout, before pulling them both into tight hugs and breaking into a smile. “It’s so good to see the two of you outside of meetings, finally,” she said, kissing each of their cheeks. “You both need the relaxation.” Marianne dipped into the sun cream jar and took some for herself before tossing it to Hilda.

“Lookin’ lovely as ever, Marianne,” said Claude, walking over and bringing her in for a hug, and Lorenz following suit. “Has that layabout over there been giving you any trouble?”

“Thankfully, no,” said Marianne, with a fond glance over at Hilda, who was smearing sun cream on Hollis’s face and back, making goofy faces as she proceeded. “Everything’s been better than ever. Now that things with the terrain dispute have finally been cleared up, it’s going to be smooth sailing.” Hilda threw the jar to Claude, who smeared it on Ismene’s cheeks. She had a hybrid of their complexions, but precautions about sunburn were still necessary, and once he was finished, he handed the jar to Lorenz.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Lorenz, who always found Marianne to be a remarkably respectable woman, and an upstanding margravin. “And the border with Faerghus hasn’t seen any more trouble since last autumn?”

“No,” said Marianne, sitting down on the picnic blanket. Lorenz joined her and began to apply the sun cream to his arms. “I think things are finally quieting down. No thanks the unified front and the de-escalating conflict with Almyra.” She glanced at Claude, who was already laughing with Hilda about something. Hollis teetered over the sand towards Marianne, and leaned against her shoulder.

“Mama, Ismene says the crabs will pinch me if I try to make a sand castle.” His voice was quiet, so low that Lorenz could barely hear it.

“Ismene!” Lorenz called over his shoulder.

“I didn’t do it!” she yelled from Claude’s side.

Lorenz sighed. “That girl. Ismene, come here please.” Dragging her feet through the sand, Ismene rested her chin on her father’s head and pouted.

“Daddy, what did I do?” Her voice was all innocent, but he knew she had already guessed.

“You know what you did. Why did you tell Hollis he would get pinched by crabs?” Hollis looked out fearfully from behind Marianne’s blue hair, and Marianne offered out a reassuring hand for him to hold.

“I said they might,” said Ismene, eyes wide. “Because they might. Baba told me I had to be careful. I just thought Hollis should know.”

“Nuh uh,” said Hollis, shaking his head. “She said they would for sure.”

“Hollis is dumb,” said Ismene.

“Ismene, apologize. Right now. You’re being very impolite. He’s your family,” said Lorenz, brow furrowed. Marianne sighed and Hollis crept out from behind her.

“I’m sorry, Hollis,” Ismene huffed.

“I need you to be genuine, Ismene. When you say sorry, it means you won’t do it again. Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry I called you dumb. And said the crabs would pinch you.” Ismene stuck out her hand, and Hollis hesitantly shook it. “Now do you wanna go chase seagulls?”

Hollis paused. “Okay,” he said, following her to the shore.

“Stay where we can see you!” called Lorenz. “Marianne, I am so sorry. She’s simply reached that age where she’s trying to figure out which rules she can break.”

“It’s alright. You two seem to have your hands full with her.” Marianne shook her head fondly as she watched them run off.

“Honestly. I love Ismene dearly, but I am beginning to understand why I’m an only child.” A smile graced Marianne’s face, and she reached into her bag for a water canteen.

“I wonder if the both of you spoil her,” observed Marianne.

“I beg your pardon?” Lorenz feigned offense, more curious than insulted.

“Neither of you had very happy childhoods, did you?” Marianne reached for a hair tie and began the work of keeping it up. “Claude was an outcast, you were alone, and your father…” She trailed off. “I wonder if you just want to give Ismene a better beginning. I think it’s sweet. You’re good fathers.”

“And the two of you have been wonderful mothers. How is Hollis doing? Perhaps he’s not as rambunctious as Ismene, but surely he must have his moments.”

“Certainly,” said Marianne, finishing her plait and tucking it behind her head. “His governess says he never finishes his work on time, and will just sit and read for hours. It’s charming, but eventually, I think he’ll have to learn his spells and mathematics.”

“How whimsical,” said Lorenz, watching Ismene hop giddily through the sand as she chased down an especially large one. “I’m amused that he’s even related to Hilda. Such reserve and composure,” he smiled.

“Oh, he’s just as sharp as her when he wants something. She caught him lying to Holst about not having any toys to train with last week.” Marianne shook her head. “You’re going to see it this week.”

“Will I?” Lorenz shook his head and looked back at Hilda and Claude. The four of them were fast friends at school, but the lines drawn by camaraderie naturally fell with the two pairs in the Academy. “I suppose Hilda thinks it’s amusing.”

“She does,” agreed Marianne. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that she had taught him how.”

“Really now? Give her more credit.” Lorenz smiled. “Then again, I recently learned Claude has been giving Ismene flying lessons without informing me. Those two will do what they want,” he sighed.

“That’s what endeared me to her in the first place,” said Marianne fondly. “Hilda does what she wants.”

“That’s one way to phrase it,” said Lorenz, but he thought similarly of Claude. The determination to walk his own path, the commitment he had to the world, and then, that he carried that commitment to Lorenz-- he felt lucky. Claude did what he wanted, and had freed Lorenz to do the same.

“How are the two of you?” Marianne put on a sunhat, more modestly dressed and sun protected than her wife.

“Claude and I are well. Ten years doesn’t make for many surprises. The back and forth between home and Almyra has gotten a little easier now that Ismene is older, though.”

Marianne thought for a moment, and turned to look at the ocean. “Almyra is his home, though.”

“Of course!” said Lorenz, stretching. “I didn’t mean it like somehow Fodlan is…”

“I know,” said Marianne. “I’m just reminding you.” He breathed a sigh. “Is the stress alright?” For a few years after the end of the Empire, none of them had slept, even Hilda, and it had been especially harsh on Marianne and Claude.

“He’s actually sleeping at night these days,” said Lorenz, “but I think it’s only because being a father has worn him out.”

“It would do that to the best of us,” agreed Marianne. He remembered the first two years of Hollis’s life, where he would only sleep if Marianne was holding him, and the two mothers would have to take shifts. “You’ve taken it so much more gracefully, haven’t you?” The sarcasm was evident.

“No, I’m afraid two members of the household find me to be...how did Claude say it? Fussy?” He shook his head.

“You?” Marianne smiled. “Never. If you must know, Hilda says the same of me. I think she was corrupted by having an older brother, though. Her parents gave her a very long rope when she was Hollis’s age.”

“Perhaps the both of us are simply overbearing. I have considered the possibility.” He reached for one of the books he’d brought with him, rifling through the bag.

“Hilda and I are thinking about a second child.” Marianne stretched and took another sip of water. She looked less tired, and more alert, than he could’ve ever remembered her looking at Garreg Mach, before or during the war alike, but he knitted his brows nonetheless.

“It is punishing to be an only child, that’s true. But are the two of you prepared for such an ordeal again?”

“I’m still thinking about it,” said Marianne, watching her son on the horizon.

“It would be dishonest of me to not let you know Claude and I have been having a similar conversation. All things considered, one person could not inherit our responsibilities, no matter how remarkable Ismene is.”

“What a clinical reason,” said Marianne.

“It isn’t the only one,” said Lorenz. “Both of us enjoy being fathers, of course, and Ismene shouldn’t have to be alone. I only worry that she would hate to lose our full attention. But as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I have no desire to pressure Claude about this. It is, after all, up to him.”

“Fair,” said Marianne. “Do you know if Ismene bears a crest?” It was an innocent question in her mind, but Lorenz knew Claude would’ve bristled a little.

“Claude refuses to get her tested,” said Lorenz. “Something about upholding archaic social classes.” Marianne smiled.

“Hollis bears the Crest of Maurice.”

Lorenz stayed quiet for a moment, unsure of what precisely to say. He knew Marianne’s crest had brought her great suffering in her early life, and there was still a level of anxiety maintained by the peril and misfortune it carried. “I’m so sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she said, her expression softening. “I made my peace with that a long time ago. I can nurture him, and make sure he never has to face what I did.” Lorenz nodded.

“Every time we meet again, I am reminded of your wisdom and patience, Marianne.” 

“What a strange thing to say,” she said, picking up her book, content to spend a few moments in quiet with a friend.

<>~<>~<>

“I can say a lot about you, Your Highness,” joked Hilda, “but at least I can’t say there’s ever a dull moment with you around.” Ismene and Hollis were scampering off after Claude had warned them about seagulls.

“You’re right, that one would be new.” He flopped onto the sand, sprawling out his legs. “The Edmund estate agreeing with you these days?”

“It’s nice,” shrugged Hilda, “but the artisan academy has been pretty demanding lately. I spend at least half my time there.”

“I never thought I’d say this, Hilda. But you’re working too hard.”

“Oh, come on,” she laughed. “It’s nice to have something I feel so good about! Besides, I come home when I can. I swear, it must be dead quiet around there without me.” She snorted.

“Well, at least I know it’s not when I’m away.” Claude pushed himself upright. “You and Marianne doing alright lately? I know that territory dispute really did a number on her for a good few months.”

“She’s fine now,” said Hilda, glancing at her wife. “But there was a little while there where I had to stay home and take care of Hollis alone. She wanted to handle the fighting by herself. I told her I could help, but sometimes I forget that no matter how demure and quiet she is, she’s really stubborn.”

“She didn’t want your help with the soldiers?” Hilda had been one of the most capable specialists in the Alliance when they were younger.

“No,” said Hilda, “and at first, I was confused too, but I think she thought it was her duty. And I think she doesn’t want me to see her like that again.” Hilda sighed. “I do my best to keep her in good spirits, but it’s never easy work.”

“It’s the best you can do, Hilda,” said Claude. “Besides, Marianne has always had a hard time with things like that. War. Conflict. Can you really blame her?”

“Of course not,” said Hilda. “I just wish that sometimes we could go back to when she would let me do things for her. Hollis and the academy have changed everything.” Claude did not know where she had gotten a wine glass-- he had been watching her the entire time, but she had one in her hand nonetheless. “Splitting responsibilities might be the hardest work yet, huh?”

Claude tilted his head. “You surprise me, Hilda. Never thought you’d be here complaining that your wife doesn’t let you do anything for her.”

“Well, you at least have to know where I’m coming from!” Hilda shaded her face from the sun and glanced over at the kids.

“Oh, sure, I do. Lorenz fusses over everything. Insists on arranging almost everything we do, came overprepared for this vacation, is an overbearing dad, and panics every time he visits Almyra, goes to a meeting, or has to face my parents. I know where you’re coming from.”

“So you get it.” Hilda sighed.

“Yeah, I get it. But I also know it helps him find his peace of mind to respond to things the way he does sometimes, and when it doesn't, I'm there for him. It makes him feel better that he brought four books to read this week. And who am I to stop him, you know? I know it’s different with this situation, and you don’t want Mari all alone out there. But finding a compromise that’s good for the both of you, maybe next time, could work wonders.”

“Like you’re the master of compromise?” Hilda raised an eyebrow.

“I always get what I want, yeah,” agreed Claude, taking her wine glass and downing half of it. “But I try to make sure everyone else does too.”

“Hey!” Hilda smacked his arm.

“And look, the other half of the glass of wine. You’re welcome, Hilda. Now, I’m going to go challenge my husband to some beach volleyball.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Is he still asleep?” Hilda whispered to Marianne, who was carrying Hollis, wrapped in a blanket, to the beach. He had been sleepy all morning, and his fine baby hair peeked out of the woven blanket like a halo.

“I think so.” Marianne smiled down at the little boy, adjusting her arm only slightly so as not to stir him while they walked. “Yesterday was a long day. Poor thing.”

“Poor thing?” Hilda smiled. “He’s been begging you to let him ride for months, Marianne. He was thrilled.”

“But he’s so tired,” she cooed, poking his nose. “Hilda, he almost looks like you when he’s sleeping like this.”

“Are you sure about that?” Hilda smiled. “He’s cute, I’ll give him that.”

“I’m sure,” said Marianne. “He’s awake, but he’s just pretending so he can get carried.”

“Oh, so that’s why he’s like me.” She wrinkled her nose at her wife and smiled. “I can carry him, Mari.” She scooped their son into her arms, and Marianne stretched a little, maintaining the slow, lazy pace the both of them had kept for the hike.

“Are you excited?” Marianne asked absently, glancing over at Hilda.

“Of course I am! They’re still my best friends, and we both need some time off. This is going to be fun. I feel like a teenager again already,” she said, beaming in the early morning sunlight. “What about you? Is it too much stress?”

Marianne shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m glad to see them again.”

“I always worry about you,” said Hilda, the sunshine smile still on her face. “Before we go home next week, I have some things to settle with Holst, by the way. We’ll just stop by the estate on the way home. I know he was just in Edmund, but I’m a little forgetful.”

“Hollis will be happy to see his uncle again,” said Marianne, “and you know I like your brother. As long as we’re back in time for the financier’s committee, I would love to visit.”

“Crud, I forgot about that meeting.” Hilda sighed. “Do you think anyone would notice if I happened to miss it?”

“Sylvain, Ignatz, and Lysithea all will be coming.”

“You sure do know how to give a girl a hard time, don’t you?” Hilda winked. “Guess both margravins will be in attendance.”

Marianne knew she would’ve shown up anyways, she thought with a smile. “I guess so.”

“It’s a good thing we’re holding it at the estate, though,” said Hilda. “I don’t want to drag Hollis all the way to Gautier again. It was too cold for him,” she said.

“You coddle him, Hilda,” smiled Marianne.

“What am I supposed to do? He gives me those big sad eyes and he’s got those cute little rosy cheeks. When he says, oh, Mimi, I’m so cold, how am I not supposed to feel awful?”

“Hilda, you wrapped him in your own coat and walked around freezing the entire weekend. Felix thought you had a death wish.”

“The sacrifices of motherhood,” sighed Hilda melodramatically. Marianne wrapped an arm around her, the little family walking together. Hollis stirred under the blanket and his silvery lashes flitted, and Hilda kissed his forehead. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

Hollis yawned and looked up at his mothers. “Mimi, are we at the beach?”

“Not yet,” said Marianne, fixing a few stray curls. “Had a nice nap?” He nodded.

“Mama, did you remember my book?” His eyes grew wide.

“I brought the one with the dragons on the cover,” reassured Marianne. “The new set Mimi packed is at the villa.”

“Sure was nice of my brother to let us all use the family beach villa,” said Hilda, setting down Hollis, who still had the blanket around his shoulders and chose to glue himself to Marianne’s leg.

“It was,” agreed Marianne. “So the Gloucester-von Riegans are staying with us starting tonight?” She thought fondly of the both of them, and though she’d seen Lorenz and Claude both at meetings recently, it had been a long while since they’d had time together outside of work.

“Yeah,” said Hilda, stretching slightly. “Don’t worry, the place is pretty big. Those idiots couldn’t wake us up if they tried,” she grinned.

“At least there will be another morning person around,” reflected Marianne, who liked to wake up with the sunrise and study.

“Oh, come on,” smiled Hilda. “You like the peace and quiet.”

“I don’t like having to wait until noon for breakfast, though,” joked Marianne.

“Mimi, are you going to make sticky rolls tomorrow?” Hollis had a sweet tooth, and Hilda had picked up baking somewhere between Lysithea and Raphael. Sticky rolls were meant for a special occasion.

“Now that you ask, I might,” she said with a wink as they reached the top of the hill. The beach was empty.

“They’re not here yet. Usually, they arrive before us,” said Marianne.

“I would bet you anything Ismene is making trouble,” said Hilda with a grin. “You know, I didn’t think they would handle such a bundle of energy so well. But when I saw them all last month, they had it down to a science.”

“It’s a good thing Hollis is such a sweet thing,” said Marianne, reaching down to smooth his hair as they climbed down the hill. “Where do you want the umbrella, Hilda?”

“Over here, wait— I can handle it. You get the blanket.” Hilda stretched out and looked over the hill as the voice of a little girl caught her attention. “Wait, there they are!”

<>~<>~<>

“Lorenz,” said Claude, skidding across the sand and dropping to his knees. “Play volleyball with me.”

“Volleyball?” Lorenz wrinkled his nose. “Darling, it’s been years, I’m sure I’m terribly out of practice, and besides—”

“Please?” Claude took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “If you don’t play with me, Hilda will.”

“Hilda agreed to play?” Marianne tilted her head in intrigue, taking off her sunhat.

“She did, fair lady,” said Claude, sidling up to his husband. “Please.”

“You’re going to win, because I am terrible at—”

“Please. Lorenz. Honey. Babe. Sweetheart.”

“Lorenz, we could team up against them,” said Marianne, eyes sizing up the competition. “You’re tall enough to guard the net, and Hilda is a lousy serve.”

“Marianne, I appreciate your attempt at persuading him to abandon his efforts, but— wait, you’re volunteering to play on my team?”

“Oooh, this will be fun,” said Claude, rubbing his palms together. “Hilda, get the net, it’s going to be two on two!”

“I should have known he’d get competitive,” said Lorenz, standing up and brushing the sand off his legs.

“I think we might stand a chance,” said Marianne quietly.

Within five minutes, Claude and Hilda had set up the net Hilda had found in the villa. It was crooked, and would topple if any of them bumped it, but it was a net, and that was what they needed. Hollis had migrated back to Hilda’s side, clinging to her closely, but even Ismene had wanted to watch.

“Baba,” she yelled, running back towards them over the sand, “what are you setting up?”

“Volleyball. It’s like that game you play with Lucille,” explained Claude, in reference to Ignatz and Raphael’s adopted daughter that often played with Ismene and was a year or two her senior.

“So you...hit it over the net, and it bounces?”

“Can’t hit the sand,” clarified Hilda, “and you only get to hit it three times before it has to go over the net again.”

“I see,” said Ismene, businesslike solemnity on her face. “Daddy, I’m playing on your team.”

“Why not your Baba?” Lorenz was drawing the edge in the sand with a stick. Both he and Marianne could’ve used magic, but he was fond of the rusticness of the hand-drawn lines.

“I think Aunt Hilda and Baba would win if I helped them. You need my help.” She held her chin high with dignity.

“You deserve credit for your honesty,” smiled Marianne, who had tossed her overdress to the side. Lorenz unbuttoned his cotton shirt and threw it to the side too, knowing he could shake the sand off it later.

“Come on, we’ll make quick work of the three of you,” said Claude. “I’ll even give you first serve, Mari,” said Claude, rolling the ball towards her as he and Hilda took up positions on their court. Hollis stayed close to Hilda, but tried to replicate her stance in adorable mimicry.

Marianne tossed the ball up, and with a lightning fast crack, it was embedded in the sand, two feet in front of Claude, who stood there blinking.

“I’m out of practice, sure,” he said, going for a serve towards Lorenz, who was at the rear of the left side, “but I’m not losing today.” Lorenz bumped it to Marianne, Marianne set the ball close to the net, and Lorenz, with an overhand smack, popped it over the net. He was better at this than he remembered— and he barely had time to consider that before Hilda had bumped it right back over the net in the same underhanded tactic she’d used in the academy of getting it too close to the net to set up. It seemed to fall to the sand in slow motion, and Ismene slid to bump it, but was too late.

“Told you,” said Claude. Lorenz helped Ismene up, and was, for once, grateful that she didn’t care about getting her dresses all sandy or dirty.

“No scrapes or bruises? Show me your hands.” Ismene held out her palms, and Lorenz breathed a sigh of relief. “Watch it, Claude!” he called.

“Alright, Hollis,” said Hilda, on her knees. “I need you to hit this ball, as hard as you can, and get it over the net. Like Uncle Claude did a few moments ago. Do you think you can?”

Hollis stared at her, gray eyes wide. “M...maybe.”

“Can you do your best, kiddo?” Claude ruffled his hair. “If you want me to show you how again, I can.”

“Mimi, can you do it?” he pouted.

“I’m not a great server,” she admitted. “But I believe in you, bud. Blow them away,” she smiled, handing him the ball.

Hilda walked him through the steps of an underhanded serve, and Lorenz was actually shocked when Marianne missed it— though he wasn’t certain that it hadn’t been to make her son feel better.

“Yeah! Attaboy,” said Hilda, high fiving him. “You’re good at this, bud!”

After about half an hour, they’d all completely lost track of score. Ismene took Hollis’s quick learning with serving as a challenge, and Marianne reminded everyone once again that she was, in fact, better than all of them at volleyball. Claude and Lorenz’s competition, as the net guards, got heated and resulted in laughter from everyone else, but it was Hilda who really took the competition seriously and dropped to bump the ball any time a point was in danger. By the time they stopped for lunch, her front was caked with sand from diving so many times.

“You’re a mess,” Marianne said, handing her one of the bottles of lemonade she and Hollis had made the night before.

“I would be in better shape if you hadn’t insisted on spiking the ball every time, ahem, Lorenz.” She glared at him playfully. “And teaching Ismene to set like that should have been cheating.”

“I apologize for nothing,” said Lorenz, holding his head high. “At least my net guarding skills are far superior to yours, Claude.”

“Hey now, you better watch that one,” said Claude, uncorking the lemonade bottle and handing it to Ismene. “I think for not having played in so long, we all did well. The last time I played volleyball was when Teach visited Derdriu, and she scrubbed the floor with us.”

“I do recall that being rather humiliating,” admitted Lorenz. “How long has it been since we got to enjoy her company?”

“The green lady?” Ismene tilted her head. Lorenz nodded.

“I saw her last month at the early trade agreements at Fodlan’s Locket. She looks just like she did that day,” admitted Claude. The dawn of Fodlan, they’d heard it called. It was hard to believe that all of them had been there.

“We invited her up for a weekend of quiet time, and she visited the Academy two months ago,” said Hilda. “She and Catherine and Shamir are plenty happy, it seems.”

“I’m glad for the three of them,” agreed Lorenz. “I wish I could see her soon.” She had always been second to Claude and Marianne as trusted advisors went, but it was a close second, and in many ways, he valued her input more. “She and I have kept some written correspondence, but she is a busy woman.”

“Mama,” said Hollis, leaning on Marianne, “I’m hungry. Lunch?”

“I packed some for everyone,” said Marianne, sitting down on the blanket and pulling out a spread of fruits, nuts, some dried meats and fresh rolls, and bottles of lemonade for each of them. “Just share,” she said, giving Ismene a look as she snatched two green apples.

“Put one back,” said Claude, who was making sandwiches for the three of them out of the rolls. “Generous as ever, Marianne. What are the three of you going to be doing come Red Wolf Moon?” He handed Ismene a roll sandwich, and she voraciously tore into it.

“I’ll probably be working with the new Academy students, but I’ll make it back home before the first snowfall. Marianne and Hollis will be at the estate most of the time,” said Hilda. “Why are you asking?”

“We leave for Almyra again at the end of the Red Wolf Moon,” explained Lorenz. “We won’t be back until the Great Tree Moon, so we considered revisiting the lot of you to be paramount in importance. Making arrangements soon gives us a better deadline.”

“I see,” said Marianne, sipping her lemonade and biting into one of the summer plums.

“Of course, if it’s too much trouble for you, there’s no stress about it. It’s just a long time to go without seeing your familiar faces.” Claude handed Lorenz one of the sandwiches, and he gratefully accepted it.

“We do miss you when you’re away in the winter,” said Marianne mildly. “When the holidays come around, it is a little too quiet.”

“Come on, Marianne,” said Hilda, throwing a sandy arm around her. “We can invite other people to Edmund in the winter, you know. Or we can go somewhere exciting! Sylvain and Felix have been inviting us for the last fifteen years and maybe we should take them up on it! Or, we could visit Holst and my mother, up in the mountains.” She got starry eyed just thinking about her old home. “Not that we don’t love the Gloucester-von Riegan pack,” she added, smiling at them.

“No, it’s too late, Hilda. The point’s been taken. My husband and I are not your only holiday guests.” Claude sighed and shook his head. “A shame, too.”

“Calm down, Claude,” she snorted. “Hollis, honey, why aren’t you eating the orange I peeled you?”

“I don’t want it.” He poked it with his finger and wrinkled his nose.

“Mine now, then,” said Hilda, sectioning it. “Any word about Ashe and Dedue?”

Claude chewed his lip thoughtfully. Dedue had vanished after the battle at Enbarr, and Ashe, who had joined them after the ambush at Aillel, had vanished with him in the palace. It was easy to assume that the both of them had died and simply never been found, together at the very end, until word otherwise surfaced. Felix, of all people, had seen them again at an inn where the two of them apparently cooked.

“Nothing new. If I didn’t know better, Hilda, I’d say you worried about them.” Claude leaned against Lorenz lazily, biting into an apple.

“And if I am, what’s wrong with that? I feel awful about what happened, honestly,” she admitted. “I wonder if they’re happy. Maybe we should invite them.”

“I don’t know how they’d take that one,” shrugged Claude, “but you could always give it a try. Maybe they’d come, even.”

“I’d like to believe they might,” said Marianne.

“It may not be pragmatic to invite them to our territory,” said Lorenz warily, “given that there are already questions about where our alliances lie, Claude. The general who led the charge against us at Gronder may not be...a wise public friend. But I think a private gathering at the Edmund estate would be inconspicuous.”

“Who’s Dedue? And Ashe?” Ismene inspected the bite marks in her apple thoughtfully.

“Up north, there used to be a king. He disappeared after the war. He was the same age as your Daddy and I, and Dedue was his friend, and so was Ashe.”

“Hm,” she said thoughtfully. “Not like Byleth, though?”

“No, not quite,” sighed Claude. “When you’re older, someday, we’ll talk more about it.”

“Alright,” she said, returning to picking at the apple. Hollis was nibbling at a handful of grapes and nestled against Marianne for shade.

“So you’re telling her about the war already? Brave move,” said Hilda.

“She’s an empathetic, smart little one. If we didn’t tell her, she would figure it out herself. This gives us a control of sorts on what she knows, and when.” Lorenz and Claude had talked about this a few times, and agreed on it.

“Not only that, but she should know these things about us.” He glanced over at her. “If she’s going to inherit our legacies, she’ll have to face the bad parts too.”

“We haven’t told Hollis much,” admitted Hilda. “We don’t really know where to begin. I mean, how do you tell a five year old all of that? Yeah, Mimi cleaved an ancient resurrected zombie of her great great great grandfather’s head off his shoulders with the axe on the fireplace, but it’s okay! It just...doesn’t flow.” Marianne put a hand on Hilda’s leg.

“We’ll get it in time,” she reassured her. “Hollis and Ismene are just different.”

“All things come in time, Hilda,” said Lorenz, giving her a sympathetic look. “Will you be teaching him to fight so he can get into the monastery academy?”

“Marianne has already been working with him on magic,” said Hilda proudly. “He’s very smart. A natural with dark magic. I swear, I can’t wait for him to meet Lysithea.”

“How does Lysithea fare?” asked Lorenz, concern obvious on his face. “I’m well aware that she no longer possesses any crests, but her health is still fragile, is it not?”

“She’s not going to keel over any time soon, if that’s what you’re asking,” grinned Hilda. “Apparently she teaches at the monastery now.”

“No kidding?” Claude cocked an eyebrow. “Wow.”

“I still feel terribly for any role my family had in that affair,” said Lorenz, shaking his head.

“And for the fourteenth time, it’s not your fault your dad was a prick,” said Hilda, stretching out her legs. “Not your fault, not Marianne’s fault, not anybody’s fault.”

“You’re too kind, Hilda,” said Lorenz. “But I’m glad to hear Lysithea is well.”

“Daddy,” said Ismene, patting his head. “Can we go swim? Please?” Lorenz sighed.

“Let Baba put your hair up first. No tangles,” he said, fishing through the bag for the hair ties and brush. Claude was a better braider than him.

“Baba pulls too hard,” she whined.

“I’ll be nicer this time,” said Claude, pushing himself up. “Here. Sit down.” She sat between her fathers and sulked patiently.

“Hollis,” said Marianne, looking at the sleepy little boy on her arm, “you need more sun cream before we go swim. Hilda, do you have the cork board he’s been learning with?”

“It should be…” Hilda fished through the bag, “yeah, got it.”

Claude began to slowly detangle Ismene’s long, plum hair, wavy and frizzy from a day of running around in the sand. “We should’ve taken care of this before we left,” he mumbled to Lorenz.

“We were a bit too late this morning for that,” said Lorenz, holding out the tie for her hair. “Tomorrow morning, you’re not getting out of it so easily.”

“Daddyyyy,” she drawled. “Why can’t I just let it get tangled?”

“Must I even dignify that with a response? Look, Baba is almost done.” Claude was finishing the very end.

“Hollis, smile for me.” Hilda had a fresh schmear of suncream on her fingertips. “Oh, baby,” she sighed, “you’re burnt. Here. Mari, here’s his shirt.”

“Are we going to see whales? Or seahorses?” He turned around so Hilda could smear it on the back of his neck and his shoulders.

“I don’t know about those,” said Marianne, folding the shirt into the bag and putting up her own and Hilda’s swimsuit cover-ups, “but we might see some sharks.”

“Sharks?” Hollis’s eyes grew wide.

“That’s right, sharks! Big teeth and all. Did I ever tell you about the time your Uncle Holst caught a shark? It was almost as big as I was,” she said excitedly.

“There’s also dolphins, though,” said Marianne, sensing how nervous the little boy was. “Starfish and otters and cormorants, and all sorts of things. And the sharks like deep water. The ocean has so many creatures in it,” she said, scooping him up as the made the procession to the waves. “Look, a sandpiper,” she said, pointing out one of the little birds to him. He watched it in awe with Marianne as it plucked a bug from the sand, and she smiled fondly. “Isn’t it nice?” He nodded.

“Mama, can I walk with you and Mimi?”

“Of course,” said Marianne, and he clasped her hand and pulled Hilda close to hold his other.

“The sharks can’t eat all of us,” he said matter-of-factly. “Mimi is too tough for them.” Hilda snorted.

“I don’t know about that one, bud,” she laughed. “But I don’t think we’ll see many sharks. It’s not too windy, and Marianne,” she said, looking at her wife, “I don’t think I see any rip tides.”

Marianne watched the water for a minute. “No, none nearby.”

“Thank you for the reassurance,” said Lorenz, who only felt slightly better about letting Ismene swim without floats.

“Hey, Ismene, do you wanna build some sand castles with me?” Claude smiled at the little girl happily.

“Why don’t I get sand castle privileges too?” asked Lorenz jokingly, picking Ismene up onto his shoulders.

“You can,” said Ismene. “We can build it together. A big ol’ castle like...Like the Riegan one.”

“Hollis, how does that sound to you?” asked Marianne.

“I don’t wanna,” he said.

“You can judge our castles, then,” suggested Hilda. “We can compete! Does that sound fun?”

“Do I get to watch the birds while you make them?” He frowned, watching a pelican dive to snatch a fish in its maw.

“Of course,” said Marianne. “You can sit with me and tell me all about the birds.”

“Good,” said Hollis. “I didn’t want to get my book sandy.” Marianne smiled fondly.

“So...right here? Let’s see, it’s low tide,” said Claude, drawing lines in the sand with his foot for each of their building spaces. “So the water should be back up in about two hours. Let’s call that when Hollis has to judge them all. What are the rules, o powerful judge?” he said, looking to Hollis.

“Make it look nice,” he said thoughtfully, “no saborage—”

“Sabotage,” corrected Hilda.

“Right,” he nodded. “No sabotage. No cheating.”

“Straightforward enough,” agreed Lorenz. “Shall we begin?”

“Yeah,” said Hollis, and he plopped down beside Marianne, who got to work shaping the base for her castle.

It was only a few minutes before Ismene was bored. “Daddy,” she said, crawling over beside Lorenz and glancing over at Claude, “which one are you doing?”

“I want mine to be big and tall,” explained Lorenz, “so I’m starting with wet sand and a wide base.”

“I see,” she said, observing him and ‘accidentally’ nudging it with her knee, causing one of the sides to collapse. “Oh! Sorry, Daddy!”

“Oh!” Lorenz moved to fix it, but he heard Claude’s laughter. “Darling, if you asked Ismene to sabotage me on your behalf—”

“Lorenz my love, I would never do that.” He could see right through his husband, the smug gleam telling him a very different story. Lorenz balled up a little bit of the wet sand and tossed it at Claude’s castle, which would have been a lower blow if Claude’s was any good.

“Hey! Sabotage, he’s cheating!” Claude laughed. Ismene ran over to Claude’s and kicked it, then Lorenz’s for good measure. “Ismene!”

“Now neither of you can win,” she said, a content smile on her face. “I’m getting in the water!”

“What about the sand castles?” moped Hilda, whose castle was actually looking passably good. “Oh, never mind. Come on, Mari!” She grabbed Marianne by the arm and pulled her out to the water, standing as a warm wave came in. Hollis ducked behind his mothers, but even he hopped a little over the wave.

“Wait for us, Ismene,” called Claude, chasing after her as she waded knee deep into the water. “Hey, you gotta watch for the waves, kiddo,” he said as one rocked the both of them and she reached for his hand.

“This isn’t like the river,” Ismene said, staying close to him.

“Nope,” agreed Claude. “It’s bigger, and scarier, and deeper.” She held onto his leg.

“But it’s warmer too,” she said, slowly trying to step a little further out.

“Yep,” agreed Claude. “Do you wanna try to go out a little further? Maybe your Daddy will want to come with us.” He glanced at Lorenz, who was laughing at Marianne as she tried to get Hollis to jump.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Daddy! Do you wanna come swim with us?”

“Coming,” Lorenz called, and Claude was glad now that he’d arranged for even just a brief, sunny glimpse of time off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, actually, that I said what I said about follow up chapters having a break. But here's the thing-- I love writing this, so everything else got moved to the back burner in favor of this. Thank you for the amount of feedback I've gotten in such a short time! I'm glad people are enjoying this!


	3. Chapter 3

In summer, the sun always set late, staining the water crisp roses, golds, orchids, and peaches late into the evening, like it was freshly painted. Post-dinner conversation had lingered after dark on the patio for hours, and Ismene and Hollis both fell asleep, Hollis in Hilda’s lap and Ismene curled between her fathers. Finally, as the moon reached high above them, Marianne and Hilda went to bed and tucked in Hollis as well, reserving one of the two suites on the second floor. 

“We ought to head in,” said Lorenz, glancing down at Ismene and how peaceful she looked when she slept. “Lay the little one down to rest and get a proper night’s sleep ourselves.”

“She should probably skedaddle off to bed,” agreed Claude, looking down at her, “but I think it would be nice to have some time out here. Just the two of us.”

“Because you don’t stay up late enough focused on trivialities and frustrations at home?” Lorenz raised an eyebrow.

“No,” said Claude, standing up and scooping up Ismene, “because I like to spend time talking to you. When was the last time you and I got to spend quality time alone?”

“It has been quite a long while,” said Lorenz, warming up a little and opening the door for him. “Perhaps we ought to clean up for the night first?” he suggested. “Primarily because all of us reek of seaweed and dead fish.”

Claude sniffed Ismene’s hair as they climbed the stairs to the second story. “Probably a good idea. She’s always cranky in the mornings. What did this kid roll in?”

“You were the one who encouraged her to hunt for shells in the tide pool,” said Lorenz, not unfondly, holding the door to the suite. “Though, Marianne proved no help either.”

“She was having so much fun, though. You’re only a kid once in your life,” said Claude, and Lorenz went through the bag they’d packed for her looking for pajamas. The suite was three bedrooms, a bathroom, and a receiving room in the very middle, all of which but the bathroom had wide windows and balconies. They had been carrying on the conversation with Marianne and Hilda on one of the downstairs patios.

Ismene stirred awake. “Hm?” She opened those green eyes and sighed. “What time is it?”

“Past your bedtime,” said Lorenz, holding open the bathroom door. The Gonerils had enough money for upstairs plumbing and water heating even in their vacation home, and Lorenz could tell some of it was magic. “You need to wash up before you can go to sleep.” She was too tired to argue with them, and Lorenz set her things down on the bench while Claude started the water. The tub slowly filled, and lazily, Ismene leaned against it, dangling her hand in the water. Finally, it was full, and Claude turned it off.

“If you need help with your hair, call for us,” said Claude, closing the door behind himself and Lorenz and leaving Ismene alone. She could usually wash her own hair, but if she was tired, she had a maid for help, though if it was late, usually one of them would take care of it.

Claude flopped onto the sofa and reached for one of the books on the table indiscriminately, and Lorenz sat down beside him, reading over his shoulder. “The Native Plants of Southeastern Fodlan,” said Lorenz, repeating the title. “Another one you might add to the ever-teetering heap on the nightstand?”

“Nah,” said Claude. “Just like to look at words sometimes. Takes my mind off a long day.”

“Ten years of marriage next month, and you still utterly confound me,” said Lorenz warmly.

“Can I expect any anniversary surprises?” Claude lowered the book, holding the place with his thumb.

“Am I the kind to surprise you?” Lorenz pushed back some of Claude’s short curls.

“Ordinarily, I would say no. But something about the way you said that tells me that you have some cards up your sleeve. Taking some cues from me, I suppose?”

“Hardly,” said Lorenz stretching his shoulder. “Doesn’t some peace and quiet sound nice? An evening in Derdriu, under a full moon, a glass of wine, and the two of us?”

“And Ismene?” Claude stared up at him.

“Judith adores her. Raphael and Ignatz have the inn. Come now, Claude, Ismene isn’t that badly behaved. There’s plenty of roofs for her to stay under.”

Claude smirked knowingly. “Well, you seem to have a plan. I’d rather not disrupt it, in that case.”

Lorenz gave a tired smile and leaned back a little. “Well, it’s my duty to you, as your husband. I’m not unconvinced that Hilda wouldn’t pry Freikugel off of the mantle if she were to discover that I hadn’t a single affair planned for our celebration of a decade of marriage.”

“She wouldn’t go that far,” said Claude with a grin. “At most, she might pull that old war hammer out of storage.”

“That’s no less menacing!” Lorenz laughed.

“And even so! How do you know I don’t have a plan, too, my love?” Claude winked.

“I don’t,” said Lorenz, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I simply have to take you on good faith.”

“So gallant,” joked Claude, sitting upright to kiss Lorenz’s cheek.

“Daddy,” Ismene called from the bathroom, “can you come fix my hair?” Lorenz kissed Claude’s cheek and stood up.

“Duty calls,” he said, opening the door. He grabbed the shell comb and the hair shampoo and oil and sat down, working the soap to a lather in her dark hair. “Rinse,” he said, and Ismene held her nose and ducked her head. “Good. Did you have fun today?” He began to work at the tangles at the very end— her hair was fine and frizzy at once, and the knots were always temperamental.

“Mhm— ow.”

“I’m sorry.” He smeared a little bit of the hair oil on the knot and worked the comb more slowly. “What was your favorite part?”

“I liked…” She thought for a moment. “I liked the tide pools. Aunt Mari knew all the names,” she explained. “The crabs, too!”

“I thought Baba said they pinched?” Lorenz was half done, but the worst knot was on the other side, and he was not anticipating it.

“He did say that, but I didn’t get pinched once, and Hollis even picked one up when Aunt Hilda wasn’t looking!” He could hear her smile.

“Be more careful than that, Ismene,” he said, barely concerned but still feeling the need to remind her.

“Do I have to?” she asked, sighing.

“Oh, by all means, you don’t have to do anything,” said Lorenz. “But think of the poor crab. Would you like to be picked up out of your home in the sand?”

“I suppose not,” said Ismene, thoughtful. “Was the war...like the crab?” Lorenz sighed. She’d been asking questions of her own lately, and being around Hilda and Marianne must’ve raised more questions.

“No,” he said conclusively. “I don’t think it was. Why are you asking that now?”

“Aunt Hilda mentioned something over dinner. About...everyone missing people. Who was Ingrid?”

“I see,” said Lorenz, calmly continuing with her hair, even though he was very tired. “Back when Faerghus was still a kingdom, the king, Dimitri, had many good friends. Like Baba and Aunt Hilda and us all. Ingrid was one of those friends, and she was in classes with us, too. Ingrid died in battle against us,” he said calmly. “She and Hilda used to be friends when we attended the monastery together. She misses her, I would think.”

“So you all went to the officer’s academy together?”

“Right,” said Lorenz, who had reached the most tangled snag in her hair and was being as gentle as he could be. “And perhaps with a little hard work, you may attend one day.”

“Daddy?”

“Hm?” Lorenz was halfway through the last knot.

“Did any of your friends die?” His hands stilled for a moment. “Baba says some of his did. He told me one time.”

“Yes,” said Lorenz. “His name was Ferdinand.”

“Was he nice?” Ismene’s voice was low and quiet.

“He was,” said Lorenz, slowly working through the knot in her hair.

“Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes,” said Lorenz. “It’s been a very long time.”

“Baba says that you never stop missing people when they’re gone,” said Ismene. “They’re in your heart no matter how long it is.”

It was just like him to tell Ismene things like that, thought Lorenz. “He’s right,” said Lorenz, thinking of his own complicated relationship with his father as he pulled the comb through the last knot. 

“He’s really smart, isn’t he?”

“He most certainly is. All finished, little one. Dry off and get your pajamas on,” he said, walking back outside.

“I’ll get her things moved into the other room,” said Claude, picking up her bag and the various things she’d left scattered— books, one of her dolls, a blanket Mercedes had made before she was born, and her jacket, and moving them to the other room. He noticed a large bug on the floor beside her shoes, and decided that if it was one of the unlucky cadavers she had kept, that it was not his business.

“Thank you,” said Lorenz, sitting down on the sofa. “She starts asking more and more aberrant questions these days.”

“What did she say?” asked Claude, returning to his spot beside him.

“She asked if any of my friends died in the war.” He sighed, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “What are you supposed to tell her?”

“The truth,” said Claude, putting a hand over his shoulder. “That the world isn’t like that any more, and all that we can hope for, is that it never is, but that we lost people we cared about.” Lorenz sighed and leaned against him.

“I hope you’re right,” he sighed. “Speaking of old friends—”

The bathroom door creaked open and Ismene tiptoed out, eyes drowsy and hair still damp. “Baba, come read to me,” she said, scanning the floor for her things. “Where’s my blanket?”

“I already put it in your room,” he said, reaching out a hand. “Lorenz, hold that thought and get cleaned up. I have a princess to put to bed.” 

“I’ll try to be brief,” he said, though Claude knew fully well that he would never be brief. Lorenz fished through the bag he’d packed and hadn’t yet moved to their bedroom and grabbed his pajamas and toiletries.

“Which books did you bring?” asked Claude, looking over her bag. “Oh, I see we’ve got the Shepherd and her Fifty Geese,” he said, holding up the cover, “and the tales from Dagda, and the Almyran poems for children.” He turned that one over in his hand. How many of these had he known before he could read?

“I want to read the one about the bears,” she said, pulling an old favorite out of the bag as Claude lit a candle and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Then the one about bears it is,” he said, holding it up to show her the illustrations. He knew the book half by heart and by the time he was two thirds of the way done, Ismene was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Are you sure you want me to finish it?” Claude held the page with his thumb and she squinted at him through her tired eyes.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m really tired.” She pulled the covers up. “Sing for me?” Claude reached up and tucked the blankets over her shoulders, brushing back her hair.

“Your daddy is a better singer than me,” he said, “but I can.”

He knew some from his mother— little snippets, little words in Almyran, but mostly, he remembered melodies and humming. Voice low and quiet, he followed an old melody from home, and within a few moments, she was fast asleep. Claude kissed her forehead and blew out the candle, checked the windows, and left the door slightly open, distrustful of most security measures but not willing to disrupt his daughter’s sleep. He left only one candle burning in the sitting room and read, attentive.

Lorenz opened the door a few minutes later with a quiet click, damp violet hair usually crisp, now tumbling down his shoulders. “The bathroom is now your domain,” he said, peering in the door to Ismene’s room to ensure she was safe and asleep. “No trouble?”

“She’s exhausted,” said Claude, picking up his clothing and stretching. “Can’t say I’m not, either. I’ll make it snappy,” he said.

While Claude bathed, Lorenz tidied things up— their packed bags, the things left out like shoes and their bathing suits, the books Claude had a way of leaving in his wake. It was normally the duty of house servants at the estate, but when in Almyra, they cleaned up after themselves. He would’ve been rattled by such things a time long ago. A time before he was a married man and a father. He pondered this while he held up Claude’s shirt from the day, the simple amber linen with a single embroidered black rose on the collar staring up at him. He shook himself out of it and hung it in the closet, then combed out his damp hair in the mirror. 

“You look like some divine painting combing your hair like that,” said Claude, leaning against the door in the simple pants and open robe he usually wore at night.

“You old flatterer,” said Lorenz, setting down the comb. “Would you still care to bask in the moonlight, o wonderful prince?”

“I could never say no,” said Claude, walking to the balcony door off their bedroom. There was a narrow bench, a few flower pots, and a beautiful view of the moon over the water, and that was all they needed. He held it open, and Lorenz grinned with fatigued affection. “What was it about old friends earlier, anyways?”

“They were simply on my mind,” he said. “I wonder often how much we would’ve done differently, which course we would’ve followed, had we known of Nemesis sooner.”

“Are you thinking about Edelgard?” Claude sat down and stretched his legs, looking over the water.

“Actually, Ferdinand and Hubert were foremost in my thoughts. All of their deaths seem so unnecessary now. We shared a common enemy. Could things have ended differently for us all?”

“I don’t think that would have stopped Edelgard. She would have kept going until Fodlan was hers, to the very end.” Claude remembered seeing it in her eyes that final day at Enbarr. That one of them had to die. He had dreams, or more often, nightmares, where he saw those hard lilac eyes again.

“Even at the expense of her friends,” mulled Lorenz. “I’m grateful neither you nor the professor ever thought in such a way. I’m sure I’ve reflected on that a number of times, but to consider the great lengths and sacrifices others were expected to make for Edelgard, is cause for anguish. If we had known, would we have spared them?”

“I wish I had an answer,” said Claude, sighing. “Is it doing either of us any good to sulk like this? It’s been practically fifteen years.”

“Perhaps it isn’t doing any favors for us,” said Lorenz, “but it still deserves consideration. I may not have suffered such a different fate had the Empire assumed control of my father’s territory.”

“Would you have really sided with the Empire? Even if he’d ordered you to?” Claude’s arm slipped behind him, supporting him slightly as the both of them leaned back.

“I would like to think I wouldn’t have, retrospectively. But it is difficult to imagine that I would have slipped out of his grasp back then so easily.”

“So what gave you that push to turn against him? You never talk about your father anymore, and I’m just a little curious.”

“I don’t anymore, do I?” He thought about that for the second time. “You recall the battle at the Bridge of Myrddin.” It was not so much a question as a demand, and an old scar on Claude’s arm danced to life.

“Hard to forget,” said Claude, who had a hunch to where Lorenz was building to. It had been the wound that had taken the longest to heal for his husband. Even now, though both of them awoke with nightmares, the young Count’s seemed to bring him back there more frequently than they didn’t.

“I nearly died, and when I regained consciousness, the professor and Marianne were leering over me like I was a dead man. Even in Enbarr, I was still nursing those wounds,” he said, and he still had the scars along his back and left side to prove it. “Ferdinand died there. And my father could only stomach lending his own son a hand so long as it didn’t hurt his political standing.”

“Harsh words.” Claude raised an eyebrow. “I knew you felt that way a long time ago. You’re not very difficult to read. But why now?”

“It’s impossible for me not to consider, now that Ismene has reached an age where she can evaluate our decisions on her own, what she will think of us one day.”

“That’s a tough question,” said Claude, pondering. “You’ve met my father.”

“A man who is almost as confusing as you,” agreed Lorenz. “At once commanding and powerful, yet…” Yet something about him felt like a shadow of what he once was when they met.

“He used to scare me, as a kid. Not because he would have ever hurt me, my dad was a big softie. But when you’re in the position I was, where none of the other kids are like you, it’s rough when the parents you’re supposed to be able to fall back on are also, you know, the leaders of the country. They seem way larger than life, and that can be terrifying. Even though I knew my parents would do anything for me, almost, when you’re stupid and twenty-two, it seems like the end of the world to feel like you still need them to send you troops.”

“To be fair to you, darling, you’ve handled stepping into your father’s shoes after his retirement with unparalleled talent and grace. I doubt anyone else could have done it. To reunite Fodlan, then Almyra, I never would have thought it possible from anyone else.”

“Lauding my political achievements is always hot, Lorenz, but I wasn’t building up to that.” Claude gave that quick, tight smile that his husband had known for years. “I just don’t want Ismene to see us like that. Like we’re larger than life. Like she can’t ask us for help.”

“Ah,” said Lorenz, relaxing. “You know, there are things I’ve started to miss about Almyra.”

“Hm?” said Claude, leaning against his husband’s bony shoulder.

“The stars. I never fancied myself an astronomer at home, but in Almyra, the sky seems to suspend them like diamonds just above you, so close and distant all at once.”

“You still write better poetry than me,” said Claude with a smile. “We’ll be back in a few months. Maybe we can take a tent and a wyvern and go out stargazing. Leave Ismene with my parents.” He relished a moment of quiet. “I miss the stars, too. I always did when I was here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> saw someone mention this on twitter and nearly thought i was losing my marbles. what the heck guys


	4. Chapter 4

The sun rose a crisp silver over the sea, peeking in through the rosy drapes of Hilda and Marianne’s bedroom as dawn broke. It had been quiet, blissfully quiet, and Marianne had slept soundly and well for the first time in a few months. No dreams. No concerns about the state of whatever would go wrong when she woke up. 

Hilda’s vivid pink hair was splayed over the pillow and sometime in the night, Marianne’s cheek had nestled in it, the sweet smell of strawberries and ginger she had long attributed to her wife bringing her a little comfort, and as always, she had wrapped her arms around her dear wife as they’d fallen asleep. This morning, this gentle morning, Marianne would stay in bed holding her a little longer.

Hilda stirred about half an hour into Marianne’s sleepy thoughtfulness, diamond eyes fluttering open under those light, almost white lashes, sleepily looking up at Marianne.

“Good morning,” said Marianne, kissing the top of her sleepy forehead.

“Mari,” said Hilda, still bleary, “is it early?”

“A little,” said Marianne, and Hilda yawned and nestled closer to Marianne’s chest.

“Then maybe I should go back to sleep,” she said, draping an arm over her wife’s waist.

“It’s a pretty morning,” reflected Marianne.

“Pretty to spend in bed, too. My beauty sleep, honey,” she said, a little smile on her face.

“You’re already awake.” Marianne smiled and rubbed her back. “I’ll make some tea for us.”

“On second thought, I’ve got that,” said Hilda, yawning and sitting upright. “Stay right there. I’ll bring it up.”

“Tea in bed? Is it a holiday?” Marianne smiled tiredly, pushing herself up on her elbows. Hilda leaned over and kissed her.

“Maybe not a real holiday, but we’re on vacation! I’m trying to give you a break!” Hilda winked and stood up, putting on pajamas over her bare skin, none of the pink flush of the night before remaining on her skin. That, Hilda thought, and Marianne still didn’t make great tea.

“You’re too sweet,” said Marianne, standing up and putting on her nightgown that had laid desolate on the floor before ducking back under the covers, in case Hollis woke up.

“It’s my pleasure,” Hilda grinned. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Blearily, Hilda walked down the stairs to the kitchen. She was no magician, but she knew how to use a woodburning stove to heat water and make tea, and certainly prepared better tea than her wife did. She had memories of running down the wide, marble corridors of the villa, the sun drenching her and her brother as they laughed for hours, her parents’ quiet conversations and her infinite curiosity to find every hiding place and lovely detail. The villa was less than a quarter of the size of the Goneril estate house, and less than half of the Edmund one, but it had been designed for the cozy and quiet family vacations rather than grand receptions. It was airy, and bright, and in the rosy morning, almost a better home than their own. On her slippered tiptoes, she ducked into the kitchen, only to find that it was already occupied.

“Good morning,” said Hilda, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and looking at Ismene, her dishevelled bedhead and baggy nightgown telling her aunt that the little girl had only just woken up.

“Morn’n,” said Ismene, standing on her tiptoes by the cabinet, peering through the shelves very deliberately.

“Can I ask why exactly you’re up at this hour?” She walked behind her and stared into the cabinet and grabbed the tea sachets of the lavender tea Marianne liked.

“I wanted to make my dads breakfast,” she said, frowning at the pantry. “Baba and Grandma taught me how to make the…” She sighed in frustration. “The flat ones! With the honey and the spices.”

“Oh,” said Hilda, who knew vaguely of the Almyran dish she was talking about. “Well, I don’t know how to make those, but you can leave breakfast to me. I was going to make special sticky buns for everyone.”

“I wanted to make it myself,” sighed Ismene. “They’re both still asleep. I checked. I wanted to surprise them.”

“How long have you been awake, exactly?” Hilda raised an eyebrow as she set a pot over the woodstove for tea.

“I dunno,” shrugged Ismene.

“Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll make the sticky rolls, but you get to bring them up for your dads so you can surprise them instead of me. You have to be my lookout, so it stays our surprise,” said Hilda with a clever smile. Ismene nodded eagerly.

“I can do that,” she agreed.

“First, though, I have to bring Aunt Mari her tea. You should get back upstairs and make sure your dads are still asleep, okay?” Ismene nodded in agreement and scampered upstairs to the suite, peeking in her fathers’ bedroom door.

Claude didn’t open his eyes, but he could hear Ismene. He could always hear Ismene, even laying on his stomach facing away from the door. The little girl giggled like she had a secret and stomped even louder when she was excited. It was hard not to hear her. She closed the door behind her and was followed by the pit-pat of very enthusiastic feet.

“Here comes trouble,” he yawned, and Lorenz, who slept on his back like a corpse in a way Claude had always found hilarious, sighed deeply.

“Go back to sleep, darling,” he said.

Hilda was finishing up the tea tray for Marianne when Ismene barrelled back downstairs. “They’re asleep!” she confirmed. “How long should the tea take?”

“I’ll make it fast,” said Hilda, yawning and picking up the tray, with the pot and three cups on it. “But if you get bored, you can always find the crawl space above the foyer. I think some of Holst’s old toys are still up there,” she said thoughtfully. “Don’t tell your dads I told you that.” Ismene gasped, and Hilda took the chance to head back upstairs.

She pushed open the door to the suite with her elbow. Hollis was sitting cross legged outside her and Marianne’s bedroom door, looking out the window as he held onto his stuffed dog, his silvery hair ducktailed and messy from a restful night. “Good morning, bud,” she said with a little smile.

“Mimi,” he said contentedly, standing up and hugging her leg, and she balanced herself and the tray.

“Oof,” she said, “I have tea, buddy. I don’t wanna spill. It’s for Mama,” she said, nudging open the door. “Mari, it looks like our lazy morning is over.”

“Good morning,” she said with a big smile as Hollis dashed over the footboard of the bed and sat beside them. “Should I even ask?” she said, ruffling her son’s hair.

“Ismene is up,” said Hilda, stretching as she set the tray down on the bed and poured a cup for Marianne and Hollis each, then herself. Hollis dumped sugar cubes and cream in his, more sweet milk than it was tea, and sipped it with quiet hesitation. “She was going to surprise her dads with breakfast, but I think I talked her down from it.”

“I can only imagine the havoc she could wreak,” said Marianne. “I assume you’ll be making breakfast?”

“Probably,” said Hilda, smiling. “Hey, Hollis, buddy, what are you excited about today? We could do anything.”

He thought for a few minutes, pondering what his mothers had told him was nearby. “I want to see...I want to see dolphins. Can we go on a boat?”

“Can do,” said Hilda, taking a sip of her tea and leaning back. “You know, Mari, we do have the catamaran. I think he’d like it.”

“What’s catamaran?” His dark eyes glowed with curiosity.

“You’ve gone out with us on the sailboat before,” explained Marianne, “so imagine that there’s two sailboats side by side, and a big deck part in between.”

“So....” Hollis traced a shape with his fingers. “Like that?”

“Just about,” said Hilda. “Hey, I’ve got an idea! How would you like to be the captain?” Hollis leaned back against Hilda’s stomach, and sighed.

“I’ve never captained before,” he said. “Would it be like in that story about the prince and the ghost ship?”

“Not exactly,” said Marianne, who knew which book he was talking about. It had been one of her favorites when she was little, too. “Less ghost pirates, and more of your mimi and Uncle Lorenz laying around, really.”

“Hey! You and Claude are the ones who know how to sail right. It just happens that my hands are too soft for all that rope burn. Can you imagine me with callouses? My strong, beautiful wife and my best friends can definitely manage a small watercraft.”

“Sycophant,” said Marianne with a slight smile. “At least you’re making breakfast.”

“You’re so sweet, Mari,” she said, leaning over to kiss her. Hollis stuck out his tongue and Hilda laughed.

“Ick,” he said, taking another sip of tea.

“Ick what?” asked Hilda.

“Moms shouldn’t kiss. That’s gross. Kissing is nasty,” Hollis said matter-of-factly. Marianne stifled a laugh.

“Never grow up, bud,” said Hilda. “Do you want to help me make the sticky rolls for breakfast?”

“Is Ismene gonna be there? She’s scary,” he said, draining the last of his tea.

“Probably not,” said Hilda. “Ismene has probably ran amok and found herself some new trouble to make by now.”

“Okay,” said Hollis, setting down his teacup on the tray, and Hilda sipped the last of hers as well.

“Before you go,” said Marianne, yawning, “can you hand me the book on the bench there?” Hilda reached for it and handed it to her. “Thank you, dear.”

“Alright, Hollis. Let’s go get to business. You’re about to learn your mimi’s biggest secrets,” she said, opening the door as Hollis eagerly followed, still clutching the stuffed dog. “Wait, can you leave Scraps with Mama?”

“Do I have to?” Hollis frowned.

“You don’t want him getting all sticky, right? I’ll look after him,” said Marianne. Hollis set the dog down on the pillow beside Marianne and nodded gratefully.

“Show me the secrets,” said Hollis, pattering down the stairs ahead of Hilda, that familiar curiosity in his eyes lighting up again. He reminded her so much of Marianne, it almost ached.

“Alright, alright,” said Hilda, opening the pantry and finding the jar of yeast, then warming some water over the stove and dropping some sugar into it, before pouring it into the bowl. “Do you see the little grains?”

“Mhm,” said Hollis, staring at the yeast jar.

“They eat the sugar and puff up, and they’re what makes the sticky rolls and bread and cake puffy. So we need to make sure their home is nice and warm and has plenty of sugar.” She could eye measurements; and showed Hollis the bowl. He crawled up onto the counter, watching her curiously. “Once it’s all foamy, like this,” she said, holding out the bowl, “you add everything else. Can you grab two eggs from the pantry?” Hollis nodded and crawled down, carefully handing her the eggs, one in each of his hands. “Thank you,” she said, folding them in along with the milk, extra sugar, flour, butter, spices, and salt.

“It smells funny,” he said, watching the dough begin to form on the spoon. He reached out and grabbed a sticky bit and popped it in his mouth, pondering the doughy, sweet taste for a moment. “It tastes good, though.”

“Do you want to stir?” Hilda handed him the spoon, and he took a few turns around the bowl.

“This is hard,” he said, handing it back to her, and she laughed.

“Yeah, a little. You really have to put your arms into it. But look,” she said, sprinkling some flour on the counter and dumping it out of the bowl, “it’s making some progress, huh?” The dough stuck, but it was whole, smooth, and would soon be, with some kneading, elastic. Hollis ripped off another chunk of dough and popped it in his mouth.

“If you keep doing that,” said Hilda, “then there won’t be enough dough to make into the rolls.” Hollis slumped guiltily. “Do you want to knead? Here, get some flour on your hands.” He patted his palms on the counter, glad his mimi was for once, letting him make a mess, and sunk his hands into the dough, pushing it in the way he’d watched her for a few moments.

“Sticky,” he said, frowning.

“Yep,” agreed Hilda. “Maybe get a little more flour on your hands.” She grabbed some and sprinkled it and he rubbed it over his palm. “Better?” He nodded.

“It’s stretchy,” he said thoughtfully as Hilda took over again in the kneading. “It’s a lot of fun.”

“It is,” agreed Hilda. “Do you remember Uncle Raph and Aunt Lyssie?” She and Marianne had tried to keep ties with such old friends, and it just happened that Hollis had taken to them as family.

“Yeah,” he said, peeling the flour-caked dough off his hands and staring at them.

“They’re the reason I learned to bake. Aunt Lyssie showed me how, but she wasn’t much good at kneading or mixing or anything. She asked for my help a few times, and I picked up on it.” She held up the dough, letting gravity stretch it. “I think it’s ready to rise. Here, we’ll put it back in the bowl and set it near the fire.” Hollis helped and the both of them washed their hands and the dishes together.

“When are we going to go home?” asked Hollis, sitting on the floor beside the fireplace, watching the dough.

“Next week. I thought you were excited to go to the beach, though,” she said, sitting down cross legged beside him.

“I was,” said Hollis thoughtfully, “but it feels funny to be away from home.”

“I see,” said Hilda, listening intently.

“It’s like when we went to Gautier in Lone Moon,” he pondered. “I don’t know where anything is. And everyone else is running around and doing stuff, but I’m just left behind because I’m--” he paused, looking for the word. “It’s ‘cause I’m little and shy. All the other kids are bigger and louder than me.” 

Raphael and Ignatz’s daughter Lucille was eight and all smiles and laughter, Sylvain and Felix’s adopted two kids Elias and Althea were loud ten year olds who were almost as energetic as Ismene, Leonie and Mercedes were only now expecting their first child, and Ismene was Ismene, which was trouble enough. There weren’t many other kids his age whose parents Hilda and Marianne were still close to; Holst’s two children were more than ten years older than Hollis.

“Oh, buddy,” said Hilda, sighing. “Yeah, I see how that must be hard. When it’s just me and you and Mama, we have a way things go. Other people just aren’t used to you the same way, I suppose.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “I bet Ismene must be scary for you.”

He nodded vigorously. “She’s always going too fast,” he said. “Uncle Claude and Uncle Lorenz are always keeping up with her. I barely talked to them,” he said, hunching his shoulders. “I want to be friends with grown-ups, sometimes, but I feel invisible.”

“Next time, when we’re all having breakfast, I can try to help. You can talk to Uncle Lorenz about magic, you know, not just Mama. So maybe you could try to talk to him.”

“Really?” His eyes grew slightly with excitement. “He knows magic?”

“Mhm, he’s really good at it, too. Much better than me.” Hollis laughed.

“Mimi, you can’t even do little magic stuff,” he said.

“And I’m still your mom, anyways!” She wrinkled her nose playfully. “You goofball. Come on, we can shape the rolls.” She grabbed the dough and dumped it back out onto the surface, shaping it quietly into the rolls while melting butter and brown sugar together in the baking pan. He watched her in silence.

“Maybe you do know magic,” said Hollis thoughtfully as Hilda sprinkled raisins and nuts on the bottom of the pan.

“Cooking isn’t magic, buddy, it’s more like an art,” she said, putting the rolls in the very bottom of the iron pan.

“Not that,” said Hollis. “Yesterday, Mama healed my sunburn with magic. I feel better now like I did then, because you taught me something secret, and I love you,” he said, standing on his tiptoes against the counter.

“Aw, you’re sweet,” she said, putting a lid on the pan and hanging it on the trammel. She sat down beside the fireplace, and hugged him. “I love you too, buddy. Here,” she said, stretching and standing back up. “I have some cool stuff to show you while we wait.”

“Like what?” asked Hollis, holding onto the leg of her pajama pants.

“Like stuff from when I was little like you,” she said, opening the door to the sitting room where her parents once put keepsakes on display that now gathered dust. The furniture was, like most of the house, rosy and a little dusty, but she felt that familiar warmth and ran her hand along the back of one of the sofa’s upholsteries.

“Ooh,” said Hollis, running to look at a shelf full of shells. “Like Mama’s yesterday,” he said.

“I found those on the beach, actually,” said Hilda with a fond smile as she looked at them. “I gave them to my mom.”

“Wow,” he said, picking one of the harp shells up and holding it to his ear. “It’s pretty,” he said.

“Mhm,” Hilda grinned. “I think a few of-- yes!” she grinned happily. A porcelain doll sat on a shelf, its pink hair and dress reminiscent of how Hilda had looked as a child. “This was mine when I was your age.”

“You played dolls?” He tilted his head, a little wrinkle of his nose.

“I was a girly-girl,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t want to stay inside and read books all day, and Uncle Holst used to pick on me, so I played with crafts and dolls.”

“Uncle Holst used to pick on you? But he’s so nice,” said Hollis, handing her back the doll as she put it back and followed him as he explored.

“He is now! But when we were little, he didn’t really want a little sister. He changed his mind later, of course, but he used to take my things, he and the boys would chase me and my friends around… If you’re ever a big brother, I better never catch you behaving like that.”

“Am I going to be a big brother?” Hollis picked up a toy lance that Hilda recognized as Holst’s, the pink ribbon faded, but the wood shaft and blunt point still sturdy.

“Maybe one day. Your mama got really sick after you were born. It’s scary,” she explained. “I love you and your mama where you are, and I would never want anything to happen to her.”

“Oh,” said Hollis. “Is that why you were scared when Mama had to go north a while ago?”

“Yeah, it is. It's scary to almost lose people,” said Hilda, voice soft, pulling one of her old family portraits out from the closet. “Oh, look,” she said, holding it out. Holst stood a whole head above her, and she stood beside her mother, who was seated daintily, where her father rested his arm on her mother’s shoulder. Hilda’s hair was tied at the nape of her neck, and had been long her whole life, and she wore a puffy jacket that matched her brother’s, though Holst had always and likely always would wear his hair short. “That’s my mom and dad,” she said. “And me and your uncle, too.”

“That’s grandma and grandpa?” He brushed his hands against the paint. His grandmother had died when he was two, and his grandfather had died long before he was born; Holst was the Duke now. “Grandma is really pretty,” he said.

“Yeah,” Hilda agreed with a sad smile. “Grandma was really pretty.”

“Mimi, do you miss her and grandpa?”

“Always,” she said. “But it’s part of growing up sometimes. Your parents will get older and pass away. One day, Mama and I are going to do the same thing.” She scooped him up and pushed open the door, and he looked at her with wide eyes.

“You will?”

“Oh, bud, not any time soon,” she said, smoothing his bedhead as she closed the door behind them. “But yeah, one day, I will. You will. Mama will. Everyone dies,” she said, kissing the top of his head as she set him down on the kitchen counter.

“That sounds really scary,” he said softly.

“Well, I guess if you believe in the Goddess, you think that you get united with her when you die, that all of the sad things go away.”

“Mama prays,” said Hollis thoughtfully. “But Mimi, I’ve never really seen you pray.”

“I think what happens happens, bud,” she said, pulling the pot lid off with a hook. They were finished, golden brown and fluffy. She used a rod to pull the pot by its handle and set it down. “Besides, isn’t it more fun to sing?”

“Mhm,” he said, sniffing at the rolls in the pot. “You sing pretty, too.”

“Aw,” she said, smiling and picking up the pot with a mitt and putting it on the counter. “You wanna go wake everyone up for breakfast? I’ll make tea.”

“Do we have to share? I want to eat all of them.” Hilda laughed.

“Imagine how sad Mama would be if you ate her breakfast,” said Hilda solemnly, though she was grinning the entire time. “Go find Ismene and get everyone downstairs for breakfast, sillyhead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's finished! i love happy parent-kid cooking bonding and i thought this was a sweet (pun intended) high note to leave on, and i really enjoyed fleshing out hollis more. i hope you enjoyed this fic, and thank you everyone for being so nice!


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